


get you the moon

by museaway



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorce, Emotional Infidelity, Falling In Love, Future Fic, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 15:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17852474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway
Summary: A year after his wedding, Shiro realizes a quiet life isn’t what he’d thought it would be. He misses flying, and while he cares for his husband, they never seem to have anything to say to one another. When he sees Keith again at the next reunion, they restart their strained friendship. But after months of frequent messages, Keith has become forefront in his mind, and Shiro wonders if he made a mistake.





	get you the moon

**Author's Note:**

> **This is S8 compliant through the Bad End and explores Shiro falling in love with Keith while he’s still married.** He doesn’t act on his feelings, but you could call what happens emotional infidelity. His relationship with Curtis is on page and so is their divorce. If any of that will bother you, please don’t read further.
> 
> I refused to rewatch S8 to fact check this, so if something doesn’t align with canon, oh well. 
> 
> Originally posted to Twitter (link in end notes). Title from _get you the moon_ by Kina.
> 
> **ETA: I've been told this might make you cry at your desk! Please be warned!**

A year after the wedding, the initial spark has worn off, and Shiro feels that itch he gets when he hasn't flown in a while. A desk job is underwhelming. He and Curtis work different hours, and while it's comfortable living with someone, marriage isn't what he expected.

But he tries to make it work. They have dinner together most evenings, go shopping, go sightseeing, hiking — no bikes. Curtis doesn't like to ride and Shiro sold his before he left for Kerberos. At the holidays, they hang a gold-plated ornament they bought on the honeymoon on the bamboo plant by the sink.

The plant is supposed to bring luck, but its stems are already yellowing.

* * *

At the next reunion, the sight of Keith sets his heart racing. They haven’t seen each other since the wedding and rarely communicate. Keith talks with enthusiasm about the work the Blades are doing. He smiles freely at everyone now, not just at Shiro, and the change knocks Shiro even more off balance.

Once everyone goes to bed, he and Keith spend the night catching up. And when morning light breaks, Shiro feels at ease to his core.

“I’ve missed this,” he says.

Keith looks at him sadly and something in Shiro’s chest aches.

“Yeah,” Keith says, glancing away. “Yeah, me too.”

Before their ships depart, they hug goodbye like they used to, hands clasped between them and Keith’s head on his shoulder. When Shiro turns his head, Keith’s hair brushes the corner of his lips.

“I’ll see you,” Keith says, voice thick. He squeezes him tightly and walks away.

* * *

After that, Keith messages sometimes. Work stuff. Pictures. The messages arrive at all hours, some days old, depending on Keith’s location. Shiro wakes when he hears the tone signaling a new message, no matter the time. The sound is enough to make him smile on the dullest workday.

He writes back faithfully, telling Keith about the dying houseplant (Keith suggests more light), that he wants to fly again (he offers Shiro a job with the Blades). When he sends a recent photo of him and his mom, Shiro sets it as his wallpaper, only to replace it with a shot he and Curtis took hiking in Sedona last weekend.

He keeps the messages to himself. There’s nothing inherently wrong with talking to a friend, but he’s afraid Curtis will discern something else from the exchange, that he’ll become aware of Shiro’s restlessness.

That he’ll see something Shiro isn’t ready to think about.

Shiro doesn’t want to hurt him. Curtis is a good person. Kind. He makes Shiro laugh, exactly the sort of partner he needed after the war. But reconnecting with Keith has awakened something and Shiro wonders, turning the platinum band ‘round and around his finger while Curtis sleeps, if he made a mistake.

* * *

For their second anniversary, Curtis books a table at a French restaurant Hunk recommended that recently opened in a rehabilitated part of the city. Shiro wears a suit. They order a bottle of Chardonnay and sit in silence over bread, perking up when the salad course arrives and they can joke about fresh versus stale pepper.

Their laughter fades into another silence and Shiro hides his embarrassment in his wine glass, listening to the drone of other diners around them. He feels their eyes — do they recognize him from Garrison broadcasts? Is it the arm? Or is it pity for the poor couple with nothing to talk about anymore?

After the entrees come out, Curtis mentions getting tickets for a hockey game — a new league has started up. Shiro agrees wordlessly, nodding toward the table, glancing out the window, fishing for something to say. Being with him was easy in the beginning, the least dramatic relationship he’s ever had. They rarely argue, never fight. Shiro can’t pinpoint what’s changed.

He pulls at his tie and Curtis lays a hand on his arm.

“Are you okay?” he says, so sweetly that Shiro’s guilt consumes him.

He should be happy like this. What’s wrong with a quiet life? He has a steady job, an apartment with in-unit laundry and views of the nearby mountain, a husband who adores him. All things he wanted a year ago. So why isn’t he satisfied?

Shiro feels like an asshole for making him worry on their anniversary. He squeezes Curtis’s hand and whispers that they should get dessert to go, keeps a hand on his knee on the drive home. Curtis takes him to bed where Shiro makes it up to him. And as he falls asleep, he’s thinking of Keith.

* * *

Shiro decides the problem is him.

He rearranges his work schedule so he and Curtis have the same day off. He plans that trip to Disneyland he’s been promising — the new park is said to be twice as large. He cooks Curtis’s favorites on game day and pretends to understand the rules.

He’s a model husband. He smiles even though he’s listless. He keeps his phone in his bag when he’s at home and dusts the wedding photo on the mantel.

But whenever Curtis kisses him, it’s Keith. Everything reminds him of Keith. Shiro can’t get him out of his head.

“Are you dead or something?” Keith writes after two weeks of silence and Shiro cries.

* * *

Curtis discovers the messages one lazy Sunday in bed. They haven’t dressed even though it’s close to noon. Shiro gets up for the bathroom and comes back to see his phone in Curtis’s hand. He isn’t the type to snoop. He must’ve heard the chime, seen the name, a photo Keith sent — something to make him curious.

As he scrolls through ten months of words Shiro had for someone else, his expression is eerily blank. Shiro watches from the bathroom door. The messages he and Keith exchange have never crossed a line, but it’s obvious where Shiro’s heart lies. Sometimes truth hides in what goes unsaid.

“You never mention me,” Curtis says calmly.

Shiro is scared by the lack of anger in his voice. His hands shake, but he doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t insult Curtis by making excuses. He accepts the phone that Curtis slaps into his palm, shudders when he walks past. When the bedroom door slams.

He sits on the bed with his head in his hands, feeling sick. What the hell is wrong with him? He’s just hurt someone who trusted him completely, and he can’t take it back. Nothing he can do or say, no amount of apology, can fix this.

He stays in the bedroom for an hour. When he works up the nerve to come out, Curtis has made sandwiches. He’s sitting at the table with his laptop streaming something with explosions.

“Is there enough for me?” Shiro says, pointing to the plate.

Curtis shrugs without taking his eyes from the screen and turns up the volume. Shiro sits across from him at the table instead of beside him like usual. He flinches every time something in the movie blows up.

Curtis watches, unaffected. When he’s finished eating, he closes the laptop and looks Shiro in the eye for the first time in two hours.

“Do you love him?” he asks.

Shiro doesn’t answer and they both know the reason.

Curtis takes a long, deep breath and stands while he lets it out.

“Where are you going?” Shiro asks when he grabs his keys, when he heads for the door.

“I need some space," Curtis says. "I’ll be back later.”

* * *

A friend brings him home close to midnight. He’s drunk, hanging off of her shoulder, but he refuses to let Shiro help him into the shower. He smacks his hands away and lies on the couch in his clothes.

“Please come to bed,” Shiro says but Curtis won’t get up.

They pass a sleepless night in separate rooms.

* * *

For three days, things go back to normal.

They wake up and have breakfast, and when Shiro comes home from the office, there's food on the table. He kisses Curtis hello. They talk about their days, and make love, and go to sleep. He thinks, miraculously, that Curtis has forgiven him.

But on the fourth day, he comes home from work to find Curtis packing. When Shiro asks what’s going on, Curtis says he’s going to stay with friends. That Shiro needs to leave. That he doesn’t want to see him for a while.

“That ring was my grandfather’s. I need it back,” Curtis says and waits for Shiro to slip it off, to slide it across the dresser. He shoves it in his pocket and walks out with a bag over his shoulder.

* * *

Shiro should be devastated that his husband left him, but when the door closes he's overcome by a sense of freedom.

He goes running for the first time in weeks. They used to run a lot together when they first signed the lease, but that fell to the side along with conversation. He runs for almost an hour, until his legs begin to cramp. By the time he gets home, he's almost excited.

This is for the best. He can't hurt Curtis anymore. He doesn't have to feel guilty about his feelings for Keith anymore. He can reclaim the things he loved and gave up.

Shiro showers and puts on the red boxers Curtis hated. He makes a frozen pizza for dinner and sits in the center of the couch to eat it. There’s nothing on TV. He scrolls for twenty minutes, listening to the sports channel Curtis had on last. His team’s not playing today.

He thinks of calling to make sure Curtis got to his friends’ place, that he’s okay, but Shiro figures he relinquished the right to do that when he let Curtis walk out.

It occurs to him that he didn't even try to stop him from leaving.

He’d probably come back if Shiro asked. Shiro could show up at his work tomorrow with a bouquet of roses, like the ones he’d given him when he proposed, and Curtis would cry and say they could work things out. He might even be hoping for that, so calling would be cruel.

He’ll find someone else, someone who will love him the way he deserves — someone who actually enjoys things like tailgating and hiking and picking out home decor, instead of trying to. Shiro wanted to like those things, but wanting isn’t the same.

As the sun sets, so does his confidence that things will turn out okay. The apartment is unsettlingly quiet with just him here. Is the ice maker always that loud? The traffic outside? Have they always been able to hear the neighbor’s cat so clearly? He turns up the volume to drown them out — it’s some sort of post-game commentary now — and pulls a throw over his legs. The thought of sleeping in their bed alone...he can’t stomach that today. When his eyes grow heavy, he leaves the TV on and lies down on the couch, head on his Altean forearm.

Though it's dark in the room and he can only see the TV’s reflection in the silver frame, he feels the weight of Curtis’s eyes from the photograph on the mantel.

He removes the arm from under his head and directs it across the room to tip the picture face down.

* * *

The next morning, Shiro writes Curtis a lengthy apology confessing everything and sends it before he can change his mind. If Curtis reads it, he never writes back.

* * *

He doesn't tell Keith for three days.

What’s he supposed to say? Curtis isn’t the bad guy here. But if he admits what happened, Keith might blame himself and this isn't his fault either.

In the end, what Shiro sends is two words.

_Curtis left._

Keith’s reply comes through a few hours later, while Shiro is on his lunch break.

_Are you okay?_

Shiro can't begin to describe the kaleidoscope of emotions. He's ecstatic. He wants to die. He's humiliated, but the guilt over what he did to Curtis is worse. Shiro is worried about him. He doesn't know what his parents will say when he tells them, what his friends will say, if he’ll have any left once this blows over.

He's been standing in his own kitchen for twenty-three minutes. He ran home for papers he'd forgotten that morning and found one of Curtis’s friends — the one who brought him home that time he’d come home drunk — picking up more of his clothes.

She asked if Shiro found a new place yet, when he was planning to move out.

The question has been gnawing at him since she left. He didn’t think much of the place when they signed the lease, but it’s home.

He should call out for the afternoon, claim a sudden illness. Malfunction with his prosthesis. Something. He should tell Keith he's fine, that he’s the asshole in this situation and deserves none of his sympathy.

Instead he writes “ _I want to see you”_ and picks the sickly yellow leaves from the plant next to the sink. Drops them to wither on the counter.

He goes back to work an hour late and maybe it’s the shadows under his eyes, the smile he forces himself to stretch across his face, but no one at the office says a word.

* * *

Thirty-six hours later, someone pounds on the apartment door and Shiro jerks awake, glancing at the clock — 1am. He drags himself to the door, expecting Curtis to be on the other side. He's probably been drinking and forgot, or he's been drinking and he's here for a fight.

Shiro can't pretend he's not home. His car’s outside and Curtis has a key — this is still his apartment, after all. Shiro can take the couch for another night if he plans to stay. Holding his breath, he looks through the peephole.

Keith is the one waiting on the other side. Shiro fumbles to unlock the door.

“Why the hell aren’t you answering your phone?” Keith says, barging inside. “I've been trying to call you since I landed. I had to wake Pidge up for your address. Have you ever tried talking to her when she’s half asleep?”

Shiro stares at him stupidly. “What are you doing here?”

“Some asshole said he wanted to see me." Keith gives Shiro a good once-over and pulls him into a tight hug. “I'm so sorry, man.”

He seems taller than the last time they met. Maybe it’s his Galra genes. His scar presses against Shiro’s cheek, and Shiro inhales the scent of his hair.

“What happened?” Keith says. “I thought you guys were happy.”

For the first time since Curtis left, Shiro cries.

“I fucked up,” he says.

Keith sighs and rubs his back. “It’s okay.”

It's not, but what Keith means is that he'll _be_ okay. That whatever Shiro did, they'll still be friends. He doesn't ask for more details. He doesn’t say anything. Grateful, Shiro tucks his face into Keith’s neck and breathes to calm down.

Keith’s hands stop moving. Shiro can feel his heart through their shirts, pounding just as fast as his own. They've never held onto each other this long before and it’s nice, it’s so nice, holding Keith like this.

Keith kisses his cheek and pulls away.

“I didn't realize how late it was until I landed,” he says, taking off his jacket. He throws it across the back of the couch. “You got anything to eat?”

The fridge is empty. Keith discovers that momentarily and laughs.

“What are you living on, takeout?”

“There's stuff in the freezer. Eat whatever you want.”

“Thanks. You go back to sleep. I'll take the couch.”

“You've been flying,” Shiro says. “You should take the bed.”

Keith frowns and scratches his neck the way he does when he’s thinking. His hair has grown long enough to tie in a knot. He’s got on a faded Blades suit and scuffed Earth-style boots, as though he got dressed in a hurry.

“If you're sure,” he says after a minute. “I'll borrow your shower too. Am I gonna keep you up if I make something?”

“Doesn't matter. I don't work tomorrow.” Shiro does his best to sound casual. “How long are you staying?”

“Just the night. I’m planning to head back out tomorrow. I’ve got someplace I’ve gotta be.”

“You didn't have to come all this way for—”

“Don't finish that sentence.” Keith selects a frozen dinner and removes it from the packaging. “Seriously, lie down. You look terrible.”

He’s not wrong. Shiro smiles and obeys, then bolts up and starts toward the bedroom.

“I'm going to change the sheets,” he says.

He's so excited that Keith is here, he's shaking. He puts fresh sheets on the bed and gathers his laundry from the floor into the hamper. He clears away tissues and straightens the books on the nightstand, like Keith cares about any of that.

He's here to check on him. He's here because Shiro's message clearly scared him. Shiro should feel bad about that, but instead he feels better than he has since the last reunion, knowing Keith is in the other room.

He sets out a clean towel for him and goes back to the living room. The TV is on. Keith is eating mac and cheese in the green chair next to the couch. He's kicked off his boots and balanced his feet on the edge of the chair, tray on his knees. He looks like a little kid, and Shiro can't help smiling.

“It's so good to see you,” he says and when Keith smiles back, he thinks his heart might burst. His eyes do it first. He starts to cry again, which Keith must interpret as grief over losing Curtis. He sets the food aside and moves to the couch, laying a hand on the space beside him.

“Come here. Lie down.”

Shiro’s too tall for only two-thirds of the couch. Keith seems to realize that and pats his lap. Shiro lays his head on it. Keith’s thigh is hard, solid but warm. Shiro likes the way he smells. A few breaths and he’s able to get a hold of himself.

For the next hour, Keith strokes Shiro's hair. He’s hesitant at first, like Shiro is a spooked animal, but his touch grows confident and soon his fingers run along Shiro’s scalp. He turns the TV to some animal program and laughs softly every few minutes. It's a beautiful sound.

“Where’s your dog?” Shiro asks.

“My mom’s watching him.”

“Oh.” Calmed, happy, Shiro drifts into sleep.

* * *

When he wakes again, the room is bright. His head rests on a throw pillow. For a second, he thinks Keith has left or that his visit was a dream, but the bedroom door is shut and Keith's jacket lies across the back of the couch.

Shiro steals into the bedroom for clothes. The sight of Keith in his bed, the contrast of his dark hair against the white sheets, is breathtaking. Shiro wants to climb in beside him, to hold Keith while he sleeps. To go with him on that ship when he leaves later today.

But he can’t. He can’t do that. Not today, at least. Probably not any time soon. His throat constricts and Shiro covers his mouth to stop the pathetic noises coming out. He grabs yesterday’s jeans and shuts the door behind him.

There's a convenience store down the street that's open all hours. He jogs there for a few things: bread, a dozen eggs, coffee creamer. Keith is still asleep when he gets back, so Shiro starts the coffee. He finds his phone dead in his bag and puts it on to charge.

The battery is at fifty percent when Keith comes out of the bedroom in one of Shiro's t-shirts. “I raided your drawers,” he says, covering a yawn.

Shiro's eyes widen and he smiles a little, seeing Keith in his clothes. Keith notices the change in his expression. Shiro can tell by the way he blinks. He’s worried he might have offended him — there’s accepting your best friend’s sexuality, and there’s being part of it — but a second later the right side of Keith’s mouth lifts a fraction.

They talk over coffee. Shiro confesses how disillusioned he's felt since he gave up flying, that Curtis read their messages.

“I think he was upset I couldn't say those things to him,” Shiro says, and once the words are out of his mouth, he realizes they're true.

To his surprise, Keith doesn't apologize and doesn't look guilty. He casts his eyes around the apartment.

“This place doesn't look like you,” he says. He finishes his coffee and pushes the mug aside, stretching his arms lazily overhead. “This would have been a great day to go riding.”

“We'll go the next time you're back.”

Keith smiles a little. “Are you still with that nonprofit?”

“Yup.”

“Once you've got everything settled, you should come back out with me. The Blades are doing the same kind of work as you guys. Or are you planning to reactivate?”

“I don't know,” Shiro says. It’s crossed his mind, but there’s a lot on his mind right now.

Keith rocks back in the chair. He's let his hair down. He tucks it behind one ear and sets an elbow on the table. “I don't have to go for a couple hours. You got any movies I haven't seen?”

* * *

They pass the time on the couch — close but not too close. Keith’s legs are bare. Shiro wants to touch him but keeps his hands in his lap.

He drives Keith to base. His ID is still valid for entry even though he's not active status, and he's allowed to go with him to where his ship is parked.

They hug like friends.

“Should I stay?” Keith says in his ear.

“I’ll be okay,” Shiro promises.

There are cameras everywhere. Curtis will hear about this. He might even be watching. There's no way he doesn't know one of the Blades’ ships is on Earth, that the Black Paladin has returned.

Shiro curls his fingers into Keith's hair. Whispers, “Thank you for coming.”

* * *

He researches apartments and finds a cheap one-bedroom unit already furnished. He packs clothes, his few books, a photo of him and Adam, the stupid plant. He takes nothing of Curtis with him. He leaves the key on the counter and texts to say he’s moved out.

Curtis replies, “OK. Thanks.”

After that, Shiro doesn’t hear from him again.

He focuses on work, on regaining his strength so he can pass the Garrison’s rigorous physical. Pidge claims it’s harder than it used to be. He calls his parents and schedules dinner. He tells them what happened. They’re understanding, shockingly supportive, and Shiro feels a hundredfold lighter.

Two months after Curtis left, the divorce summons arrives in Shiro’s mailbox. It’s the day after Christmas. It shocks him even though he’s been expecting it. Holding the packet in both hands, the full weight of his situation hits him.

This is over. He and Curtis will never go back to being two people laughing together in a photo.

He spends New Year’s Eve at his parents’ house researching divorce attorneys. He hires a lawyer and hands over the hefty retainer fee, spends two nights filling out paperwork, answering questions about income and expenditures. It's incredible how much work it takes to undo vows spoken in moments.

They settle things through mediation. Their lawyers do the talking. They haven't been married long enough for alimony, so that's off the table, but Curtis wants the furniture they bought. The computer. The TV. He wants his entire pension and what’s left in their checking account to cover the apartment until their lease is up and he can move back to base. Shiro will walk with his own pension and the car. He agrees to all of it.

They wait for their turn in front of the judge on uncomfortable plastic chairs. Curtis sits half a hallway away. When they're called, Shiro follows his lawyer into the courtroom. There are rows of people watching the proceedings and he feels naked having his private life on display.

He sits beside his lawyer at a beige table on the left side of the room. The judge reads aloud the petition for divorce. Curtis stares straight ahead. When the judge asks if this is what he wants, he nods. “It is,” he says.

She asks Shiro the same. He says yes. It’s not hard to say. The judge grants their divorce and calls for the next case. Shiro gets to his feet in a daze and shuffles out, head down, following his lawyer’s dull gray suit.

He wants to celebrate and he wants to cry, because this is simultaneously the start of the rest of his life and its lowest moment.

His lawyer is saying something about a copy of the divorce papers he’ll receive by mail with an official seal. Shiro hears half of it, sees Curtis speaking with his own lawyer a short distance away.

Curtis never looks at him. Shiro follows him out of the courthouse and across the street to where they’re both parked. Curtis gets into a blue car Shiro has never seen and at the first traffic light, turns in the opposite direction.

* * *

When he gets to work, he writes to tell Keith that it’s over. Keith’s reply comes through after he has gone to bed.

_I’m proud of you. Here if you need me._

* * *

He thought Keith might make another trip to Earth once the divorce was finalized, but he’s working at such a distance that it takes a day and then a week and then two for his messages to get through. But Keith checks in when he can. Asks if Shiro is eating. If he’s sleeping. If he’s okay.

Shiro finally hears from Lance about the next reunion. He’s disappointed to learn it’s later than usual this year, not until the fall. They met up in January last year. He didn’t want to wait that long to see Keith, to see all of them together, but maybe it’s for the best.

The day that would have been his third wedding anniversary comes and goes. It’s just another Wednesday in May.

* * *

After a little begging, Iverson allows him to return to active duty part-time. They’re badly in need of good instructors. Shiro has his old uniform repaired and cleaned. And when he steps on base and someone salutes for the first time in a couple years, his heart soars.

He’s missed this. He’s _missed_ this. How did he ever think he could be content to live without it?

After a little begging from Iverson, Shiro agrees to return to work full time as a senior flight instructor. He gives his notice to the non-profit and two weeks later has a Garrison office with his name on the door.

He sees Curtis in the cafeteria sometimes. He isn’t sure if it’s okay to speak to him at first, but come August they occasionally exchange words in the food line. Shiro remembers how to talk to him, why he liked him in the first place.

* * *

He flies Pidge and Hunk to the next reunion.

“You look better,” Pidge says.

“You’re definitely smiling more,” Hunk agrees. “No offense, man, but you looked pretty bad last year. Even Keith said something.”

Shiro knows they’re aware he flushes at the mention of Keith’s name, but they don’t comment.

Keith and Lance are waiting for them when they reach Altea. Lance is wearing one of his usual embroidered tunics and a lazy grin. Keith is in Earth clothes with his hands in his pockets. He offers to carry Shiro’s bag.

“Your room’s next to mine,” he says.

He’s gorgeous in the Altean sunlight. It brings out the violet in his eyes. He’s cropped his hair to shoulder length and pulled it back. A strand has come loose, caught by the warm meadow breeze. Shiro smooths it into place without thinking.

Keith holds still, watching. He licks his lips, looking from one of Shiro’s eyes to the other, and for the first time since they met, Shiro has no idea what he’s thinking, if the look on Keith's face is interest or fear that Shiro wants things to be different between them.

“Sorry,” Shiro says. “Your hair was…”

Keith blinks twice. “Thanks,” he says and they start walking.

“How’ve you been?” Shiro asks, even though he knows. It’s different face to face.

“Good. Busy. You?”

“Good,” he says and he means it.

“Flight okay?”

“Flight was incredible.”

Keith smiles. “Glad you’re flying again.” He follows Shiro into his room and sets down the bag. His hand goes to his neck and hooks around the back of it. “Food won’t be out for a while. You probably want to rest up.”

It’s a waste to sleep when they hardly see each other. They’ll only be here a short time, but without the sunlight on his face, Keith looks drained. He probably wants to rest himself.

“Are you tired?” Shiro asks.

“I’ll sleep tonight.”

Keith is looking at him with the same unreadable expression. Shiro glances at the bed.

“We could…” He was going to suggest they both lie down, but the idea dies half out.

Keith doesn’t move for a few seconds, then dips his head and removes his shoes. Lets his jacket fall.

“I want the wall,” he says and climbs onto the bed first, lying on top of the dark red blanket.

Shiro turns his back, stripping off his outer layers before Keith changes his mind. He locks the door. He looks down at Keith, who is staring up at him.

“Close the curtain,” Keith says quietly and Shiro does. The room goes dark except for the glow from his arm that he switches off.

Shiro lies close to the edge of the mattress, but he can feel Keith’s body heat, hear him breathe. The scent of his hair drives him wild.

He’s in love with him. He’s in love with Keith and he’s scared to death he might lose his best friend, like he lost his husband.

If he’s not careful, if Keith doesn’t feel the same way he does and Shiro crosses a line, they might never speak again. Or Keith _could_ feel the way he does and there might still be a day when he’s the other person staring blankly ahead in the courtroom.

The idea terrifies Shiro to tears. It’s only when Keith’s breathing has lengthened out, when he’s asleep, that Shiro dares touch him, the barest stroke along his hair. That he says, “I love you so much.”

* * *

Keith sits next to him at dinner. The nap helped. He's back to normal, criticizing Shiro's food choices, elbowing his ribs and kicking him under the table when Shiro steals something greasy off of his plate.

The five of them reminisce about the time when they were a team. Lance has brought a photograph of Allura.

“I can't believe it's been so long since she’s...” he says and goes quiet. Hunk squeezes his shoulder and they stop the meal to take pictures with her statue.

The days are approximately eighteen hours longer on Altea than on Earth. Dinner runs past dark. Although she’s been yawning since dessert, Pidge announces she's staying up to stargaze. They all change into thicker clothes and join her, swapping a bottle of something bitter to keep warm.

Pidge sandwiches herself between Hunk and Lance and calls them her windbreakers. Keith sits off to the side by himself, one knee bent so he can rest an arm on it. Shiro looks at him more than he looks at the sky, notices the first tremors in his shoulders. Shiro takes off his jacket and throws it at him.

“Keith, catch.”

Keith stares but doesn’t argue, just pulls the jacket over his shoulders.

“Thanks.”

As the night crawls forward and grows cold, one by one, they go to bed — Lance first, then Hunk. Pidge. She offers to bring them a blanket, but Keith tells her not to worry about it. Shiro stays put, warm enough if Keith is and wide awake. There's a little left in the bottle. Keith makes a face when he drinks and holds it out.

“Last sip’s yours.”

“I'm good.”

Keith shrugs and finishes it, setting the empty bottle at his feet.

“This always goes by so fast,” he says. “Are you leaving in the morning?”

“Probably. You?”

He nods slowly, eyes fixed on the stars.

“Shiro, you know I…”

His voice cracks. Shiro keeps quiet, hoping he might continue whatever he was going to say, but more than a minute passes and Keith hasn't said anything else. He hides a yawn behind his hand and draws the jacket more closely around him.

“We should head in,” Shiro says even though he doesn't want to.

Keith says nothing when he gets up, just holds out a hand. Helps Shiro to his feet and keeps hold of it. He walks Shiro to his door. And instead of excusing himself for the night, Keith opens it and they both go inside.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asks.

Shiro nods, throat gone suddenly dry.

Keith takes off the jacket, pulls his shirt over his head. His shoes hit the floor one by one and he crawls into bed facing the wall, turning onto his side. Shiro undresses down to shorts and switches off the light. Lies beside him on his back.

Except for this afternoon, it's been a year since he slept in the same bed as someone else. He's forgotten the sense of closeness, of comfort that comes with it. It’s a dream, sleeping next to Keith.

* * *

They wake facing one another.

Someone, probably Lance, knocked on the door announcing breakfast and roused them both. Keith’s eyes are half-open. He smiles when he sees Shiro looking at him.

“Morning.”

Shiro fights the urge to kiss his face. “We should hurry before Pidge and Hunk eat everything.”

Keith nods and closes his eyes, rolling onto his stomach to stretch. He crawls over Shiro and searches the floor for his clothes. From the corner of his eye, Shiro watches him dress and tie his hair back. There's a small sink in the room he uses to wash his face.

“I'm gonna run my stuff to my ship,” Keith says, rinsing his mouth. He spits into the sink and shuts off the water. “See you at breakfast.”

He slips out the door while Shiro is still in bed, like a one-night stand.

Breakfast is over in less than an Earth hour. The five of them take a long walk through the meadow and more pictures. It’s been ages since Shiro did anything like hiking — that had been Curtis’s hobby. But he likes the casual pace Lance sets, the way Keith smiles when Pidge tickles his neck with a pink flower. Walking with Keith. He’d probably enjoy hiking, if it was with him.

Lance has had a picnic laid out. They eat until they can hardly move, but the return walk helps. As they approach the building where they stay every time, the conversation falters. This part, saying goodbye, is always hard.

They delay it with showers and a quick drink. Shiro and Keith abstain. Lance asks everyone to stay another night (he asks every year), but even with the technology making deep-space travel as easy as crossing the Atlantic, it’s a day out and back, roughly two on Altea. Pidge has experiments waiting, and Keith is never in the same place for too long

They walk as a group to the two ships. Shiro hugs Lance first, so different from the cocky kid who was once the Blue Paladin.

“Is it just me,” Lance whispers, “or did I see Keith coming out of your room this morning?”

“It’s not what you think,” Shiro says.

“Looks like the two of you spent the night together.”

“We just slept. We were up late talking.”

Lance hugs him again. “You’re lucky, man. He’s a good guy.”

He moves on to Hunk and Pidge. Shiro approaches Keith, who is leaning against his ship beside the open door, waiting for him.

“We didn’t go riding again,” Keith says.

“I told you, next time you’re on Earth.”

“I’ll try to get back in the summer. What month is it there?”

“October,” Shiro says.

The next breath Keith takes comes out shaky. He puts his arms around Shiro. “You look really good, by the way. I meant to tell you.”

“I wish I could come with you," Shiro says. His heart is heavy.

“Me too. But they’re not getting home without you. I don’t trust either of them to fly that.”

Keith puts his lips to the side of Shiro's face for the better part of a minute. When he pulls away, he smiles and wipes his eyes, but they run over.

“Keith—” Shiro says, reaching for him, but Keith puts up his hands and takes a step backwards, toward his ship.

“See you, old timer,” he says, and to the rest of them, “Guys. Always an honor.”

* * *

Shiro is bothered by Keith's behavior. But he decides, after confiding in Pidge and Hunk on the flight home, that Keith is giving him much-needed space.

“It hasn't been a year since your divorce,” Pidge says. “He’s probably concerned about being your rebound.”

“Or,” Hunk says, “just throwing this out there — he's afraid you’ll break his heart again.”

Shiro looks at him, bewildered. Heartbroken? Keith gave a speech at the wedding. He congratulated both of them with a smile.

“Break his — what?” Shiro says.

“I'm sorry, did you really not know about that?” Hunk says. “He was pretty messed up after the reception. Lance and I found him wandering around outside. It took us an hour to calm him down. He wouldn't stop crying, talking about how he lost you.”

Shiro looks to Pidge for confirmation. Her expression is guilty. He puts the ship on autopilot, pushes back from the controls, and is sick into the nearest waste receptacle.

“Hey, awesome,” Hunk says, laughing. “For once it's not me throwing up.“

He brews Shiro some sort of tea that's supposed to settle his stomach — apparently he doesn’t fly without it. It halves the nausea, but it doesn't make Shiro feel better. How did he not know about this? Is Keith that good of an actor, or is Shiro so self-absorbed he didn’t notice?

“He didn’t want you to know,” Hunk says, like he can read minds.

There's no time to think about it once they reach Earth. Shiro’s been gone for almost four days and heads straight from the ship to the classroom, stopping by his office for a clean jacket. But that night at home, it's the only thing on his mind.

It makes sense in retrospect: Keith's year of near silence after the wedding. His tremendous workload, sporadic messages so impersonal they could be log entries. His hesitation to sleep in Shiro's bed when he came to check on him after Curtis left. That strange look in his eyes on Altea. How he didn't want Shiro to touch him as he cried. It all makes sense, now that Shiro has the missing piece.

So does Keith’s spontaneous trip to Earth, his seeming pleasure at Shiro flustered by Keith in his t-shirt, why Keith stayed with him in his room during the reunion.

He’s just as desperate, just as scared. That probably shouldn't make Shiro this happy.

He writes to let Keith know he's home, that it was good to see him — he can't wait to see him again. Summer, he writes, can't come soon enough.

He attaches a photograph Pidge took of them under the stars and sets it as his wallpaper.

* * *

Four years and three months after the wedding he put behind him, Shiro waits for Keith in a place they both know well. They’ve talked more frequently since the winter. He’s nervous, heart in his throat, the late afternoon sun making him sweat. He doesn't like the rental bike as much as his old one, but he's getting used to the controls.

Keith is late. Shiro knows he’s coming — he’s not worried about being stood up — but that doesn’t make the wait easier.

Finally, he hears the whir of a distant vehicle. And if tears spring to his eyes at the sight of Keith coming toward him, Shiro can blame them on the sun.

“Hey,” he says when Keith pulls up alongside him in sunglasses and a smirk.

“Hey, old timer. Ready for me to kick your ass?”

Riding with him again is exhilarating. Shiro hasn't had this much fun in years, not since the early days of Voltron. His stomach can’t handle drops like it used to, but he has no trouble maneuvering, though Keith is right — he’s faster.

They stop after a couple hours when the bikes’ batteries are getting low, leaning against a rock face in the shade. Keith’s skin is pink and glowing. He's wearing those gloves he always liked, shirt clinging to his chest. Shiro is lovestruck beside him.

He drinks water from a canteen and wipes his mouth. He's been practicing this conversation since Keith confirmed his arrival date, but now that Keith is next to him, Shiro can't find his nerve.

“Keith…” His voice cracks and he takes another sip of water. “Hunk told me something after the last reunion and I wanted to ask you about it.”

“What is it?” Keith says.

“He said you were pretty upset after the wedding. Is...is that true?”

Keith licks his lips and stares at the sand. “I asked him not to say anything.”

“He only told me because I was worried about the way you acted when you left.”

“Look, I don't know what all he said to you, but you don't need to worry about it. That was almost five years ago.”

“Of course I worry.” Shiro touches his shoulder even though Keith bristles. “You’re my best friend. I love you. If I'd known you were upset, I would’ve… I don't know. But I wish you'd told me. I wish I’d known how upset my relationship made you.”

“Why?” Keith says. “So you could feel guilty for being happy? That's all I wanted for you!”

“Maybe I would have felt guilty. But I would have rather known that I was hurting you.”

“I was jealous,” Keith says. “That's not your problem.”

“And if I say it is?”

“Huh?”

Shiro takes his hand. “Keith. I don't know who I am without you. I can’t spent the rest of my life seeing you once a year. I’m coming with you when you leave Earth. I want to wake up next to you every morning, if you’ll let me.”

Keith's eyes are wide with disbelief.

“I _don't_ mean as your friend,” Shiro continues. “Unless that's what you want. I've already told Iverson that I'm going with you.”

After a few terrible seconds, Keith makes a sound like he’s choking and breaks down. He locks his arms around Shiro’s neck, gripping so fiercely it hurts.

“I'd finally gotten over you.”

The pain in his voice breaks Shiro's heart. Keith is crying.

“I tried to be happy for you," he says. "I told myself if you were happy, that's all that mattered. But you weren’t.”

“I'm sorry,” Shiro says. “You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He lets Keith cry for a while, holding him and murmuring apologies. Keith’s arms gradually relax around his neck enough that they can both turn their heads, and Keith catches his mouth. His lips are trembling like the rest of him. Shiro wonders, selfishly, if this is the first time he's ever kissed anyone.

Probably not, given Keith's age. But he permits himself the fantasy. His stomach falls out like he's taken a dive off of a cliff.

There's no sense of time anymore. He moves when Keith does, on instinct, allowing Keith to lay him on his back. Keith lies on top of him, sliding one arm behind Shiro's head, the other behind his shoulders and they move against each other in a familiar motion that would be better on a mattress, but there's no way Shiro's telling him to stop.

After a few minutes of it, Keith freezes and groans deeply.

“I’m gonna have to do laundry at your place,” he mutters and Shiro laughs.

“You can borrow my clothes again.”

Keith laces their hands together above Shiro's head and kisses him hard. “How are you doing?” he says, rocking his hips to make his point.

“I'll be fine until we get home. There’s no rush.”

“Then let's head in. We're starting to lose the light.”

They return the bikes to the rental place. Someone from base gave Keith a ride there, so he hops in Shiro’s car back to the apartment.

“If you're really coming with me,” Keith says at a green light, “we need to get you packed.”

“Already done.”

“What about your apartment? You have a plant.”

“Pidge is going to sublet it for me once I leave. And I gave the plant to Iverson.”

“He must be pissed,” Keith says, sounding pleased.

“Pretty sure I saw steam come out of his ears, but I think he understands.”

They aren't five steps inside the apartment before Keith has his hands on him again.

“Whoa,” Shiro says. “What are you doing?”

Keith is unfastening Shiro’s pants. He's dropping to his knees, tying his hair back, and opens his mouth.

“Always wanted to do this for you,” he says with something like reverence.

Shiro's hands are in Keith's hair when he sees stars.

Keith starts the washing machine and kisses Shiro on the couch until the cycle is done and he can transfer his clothes to the dryer. Eventually, they make it to the bedroom. Neither of them was shy in the living room, but now that they're both on the bed and Keith is trying to pull Shiro’s shirt over his head, Shiro is self-conscious. He and Keith have been friends for over a decade. There's no going back to that. There's no forgetting what Keith looks like naked.

Without his clothes, Keith is the loveliest thing Shiro has ever seen. Even his scars. Shiro takes his time with each, especially the ones he left on Keith’s body himself. He doesn’t say that he’s sorry, but Shiro knows from the way Keith nuzzles his cheek that his apology is accepted.

It’s awkward and a little embarrassing. They burst out laughing a couple times — when Shiro tries to roll them over and Keith gets wedged between him and the wall, when they knock heads trying to switch positions. Shiro does his best to make Keith feel good. Every moan, every shiver is a triumph. And when Keith kisses him, he’s the only thing in Shiro’s mind.

“Are you sure about this?” Keith asks an hour later. “Coming with me?”

The sky has gone dark and the moon is out. They’re lying in the bed that had seemed too small for both of them, but with Keith draped across his chest is just right. Shiro imagines a future with the two of them, a uniform like Keith’s. Taking orders from him, making a home out of a ship’s quarters. There are no guarantees it will work out, nothing he can do to bind Keith to him permanently, but he's never been more certain of anything. He doesn't have to give up anything this time.

He takes Keith’s hand. “I’m sure,” he vows.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The day before Valentine's Day, [Paige tweeted](https://twitter.com/sheithtrash/status/1095716572486873088) that Shiro’s divorce needed to become canon. I jokingly [volunteered to write it](https://twitter.com/museawayfic/status/1095721589998526469). And then decided to write it as a twitterfic. I thought it would be about thirty tweets, but it grew to nearly 7k across two days. This fic is the edited version of what I [originally posted to Twitter](https://twitter.com/museawayfic/status/1095737458849968128). Thanks to everyone who didn’t unfollow me.
> 
> The divorce details in this fic were based on mine. They might not reflect your experience or your ideas about divorce. It's messy. So are emotions. I tried to keep the details spartan and focus on Shiro moving on. I feel bad about Curtis, but ... he'll find someone who really loves him. I believe this. 
> 
> I said I wouldn't write anything acknowledging season 8 and now look at me. I have this and another draft. Maybe I'm moving through the grief process? 
> 
> Thank you to RiatheMai for the thoughtful beta! I value your insight and so appreciate that you took the time to help me make this better. Especially that one line. Which I re-wrote two more times since the last time you saw it.
> 
> Thank you to Celi for talking fanon Curtis with me, sending songs during my title crisis, and reminding me that I’m allowed to say, “Keith, keep it in your pants until the last scene.”
> 
> And special thanks to my non-VLD friends who read this as I was posting even though they had no idea what was going on or who Shiro is: Orgrannie, Gigi, Allison, Ashley, and Lady Malchav. ♥ 
> 
> If you're on Twitter, I hope you'll [come say hello](http://twitter.com/museawayfic)!


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